Dying Wish
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: A canon divergence for 6x10 and 6x11-How Robin came to be in the Wish Realm.


It'd barely been a wish–more like a final, fleeting thought.

He'd been minutely aware of it, as he faded from one world to the next, only vaguely aware of what was happening to him–unleashing a curse that wasn't meant to be, and worse, that one one knew could be. It'd taken only seconds–a few last breaths turned to a few first breaths, his eyes closing and reopening–and for just a split second, he'd had a flicker of recognition what had happened to him–and then, it all faded.

He'd wished for another chance with her, an opportunity to do it all again, to live it over, to do it the right way–he'd wished it and no sooner than the wish was granted by some unknown and magical force, all was forgotten and left to fate.

Robin's eyes opened and he looked around–his chest sore and his head pounding, and his first thought was to question how much he'd drank the night before. The sunlight pierced his eyes, making him grimace and when he lifted his head, the world around him began to spin. Rubbing at his eyes, he got out of bed and stretched out his arms–and he had the distinct feeling that something was missing, that something wasn't right.

His stomach growled and his pockets were empty, and by the time he made his way down stairs to the tavern, he was in a sour mood and the smell of ale made his stomach curdle. He'd barked something about going for a walk, waving off the questions of the barkeep–something about paying a tab–and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of pine.

Closing his eyes, he felt a pang of something he couldn't quite recognize–something that felt so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time–and as he pushed himself onward, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. By the time he reached the river, he'd decided that it was the result of a poor night's sleep and when he bent at the river bank to splash the cool water over his face, he had the distinct feeling of deja vu–as if he'd been in this exact moment before. Rubbing his hands roughly over his face, he pushed the feeling away and cupped his hands in the water to gather it for a drink. The water was crisp and cold, and it stung at the back of his dry throat as he swallowed.

A gust of wind pulled him up, and smile curled onto his lips as he spotted an opportunity in the distance.

He stood there for a moment, watching two women talking; they were obviously in hurry and obviously distracted, making them a perfect target. One of the women was dressed in all white–her jewelry was fine and her clothes were trimmed in expensive fur and he could practically feel the gold coins that he'd trade them for weighing down his pockets. The other was quite obviously out of place–short hair and dressed in all black–but somehow so familiar to him. He blinked a couple of times as he focused on her, and he felt an odd fluttering in his chest that he mistook for the thrill of a raid.

Taking a few steps toward them, he watched her curiously–he watched the one dressed in black the one who looked so determined–and as his voice called out to them, he somehow knew that his life was about to change–though, he couldn't have possibly guessed how.

Her eyes shifted to his and her demeanor changed–her eyes widening as a disbelieving smile began to pull onto her lips–and for a half second, he felt himself remembering a sharp splintering at his core and the feeling of yearning. He told her this was a robbery, he asked her for her jewelry and she easily obliged. He couldn't help but look down at her hand as she removed her glove–and when she dropped her jewelry into his hand and their fingers touched, he felt a spark of something extraordinary.

But it didn't last, he hadn't let it.

Withdrawing from her, he turned away and vanished into the forest–determined to do what he did every day, determined to drink away his discontentment and to forget it all.

But he couldn't shake that feeling he'd had when her skin briefly touched to his–he couldn't forget her smile or the way she looked at him, or the way he felt when their eyes met. He didn't understand it and he couldn't pinpoint what it was that this woman made him feel the way he did, but when she walked into the tavern later that afternoon, he decided that he wanted to figure it out.

He owed it to himself–and something inside of him told me that he owed it to her.

She spun a story that barely made sense–a story of another version of himself, a story of a man who loved her. He could tell how desperately she wanted him to be that version of himself, to be the man she loved and lost–and there was a little stirring inside of himself, deep at his core that wanted to be that man, too. And so when she wanted to bring him back to her world, he readily agreed–if nothing, it'd be a new adventure.

Her world both confusing and infuriating–a supposed Land Without Magic filled with candles that didn't extinguish and screeching demon boxes from hell. But she was there, too–and there was something about her that was contrary to everything else in her world. She smiled when she entered the room, and she didn't look at him like the scoundrel that he was, and when she handed him a stack of clean clothes, she'd lingered there, almost as if wishing for him to be the man he'd once been for her–and he found himself wishing for that, too.

She'd left him alone to change, and he could feel her presence lingering at the other side of the door. He pulled on the clothes and he looked at himself in the mirror, and he wondered how he could give her what she wanted from him, how he could be what she needed him to be–and in his heart, he felt a pang of something oddly familiar but altogether foreign, a pang of something that felt like selflessness, that felt like comfort, that felt like acceptance–something that made him believe he could be the better man she knew him to be.

With a defeated sigh, he looked away from the mirror–he didn't know–he couldn't know–how easy it would be to grant the wish he didn't remember making, he didn't know that a simple kiss could bring them back to one another, and he didn't know close he was to getting back everything another version of himself had lost.

He couldn't; yet it was up to him to figure it out.


End file.
